


Plans

by swaps55



Category: Mass Effect Trilogy
Genre: Holiday Harbinger, M/M, Mass Effect Holiday Cheer, Slow Burn, despite the fact everyone else has, endless pining, too dense to figure it out
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 09:57:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13432290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/swaps55/pseuds/swaps55
Summary: Things never went according to plan, not really. Not with Shepard. Eden Prime. Noveria. Virmire. Alchera. Shepard was like a ship that skipped off the atmosphere every time he set a course for re-entry. With Shepard there was no script. No rehearsal. You just had to go with your gut.





	Plans

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HeroInTraining](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeroInTraining/gifts).



> HeroInTraining, I am your Holiday Harbinger and this is your Mass Effect Holiday Cheer gift! I hope you enjoy it!

****An AI crushing his head against a bulkhead had not been part of the plan.

Kaidan rubbed the bridge of his nose as the asari nurse finished taking his blood pressure, smiled thinly as she informed him he was 100/70 and looked excellent.

“Right,” he said. The effort of pointing out the raging tinnitus in his ears, incessant drumbeats against his skull, and double vision that made a trip to the bathroom rather exciting, was more than he had in him. “Thanks.”

She nodded, cheerful smile painted across her face.

“Flip the light off?” he asked when she reached the door.

“Of course, Major Alenko.”

Not that it made much difference. Turning off the light only ratcheted up the glare of the Presidium out his window. In here, he was surrounded by illness and injury mixed with the smell of antiseptic.

But out there, the Presidium was bright and alive. Rapid transit vehicles zipped past. Shimmering light from the simulated sun cast shadows on the floor around his bed. Outside his window everything continued as normal. If he shut off the extranet, ignored the hushed fretting outside his door about the latest reports and disturbing lack of casualties, the world wasn’t coming to an end. There were no reaper horns on Earth, no beam weapons obliterating the Vancouver skyline, surgically excising humanity like a malignant tumor.

If he just looked out the window he wasn’t trapped in a medical cage, waiting, hoping that the damage done to his amp hadn’t utterly fucked him in ways they didn’t know he could be fucked yet.

His head throbbed. It didn’t stop. The migraine that never ended.  

Shepard had told him once, in jest really, but the kind of jest that carried a little too much truth, that the jack drilled into the base of both of their skulls made them the Alliance’s first human explosive device. No one really knew what that kind of wetware would do to them long term. Made every day an adventure, he’d said, clapping Kaidan on the back. Easy enough joke to make for an L3 who miraculously hadn’t developed any crippling side effects.

Or was Shepard an L5 now? Had Cerberus upgraded his implant? It would make sense, if a supersoldier was what they’d been after. There wasn’t much to stop them from remaking Shepard into an elaborate refinement of the walking bomb he used to joke about. After the giant clusterfuck Kaidan had walked into on Aite, he didn’t have a lot of faith that Cerberus had that kind of restraint.  

_(Do you know the Commander?)_

_(I used to.)_

Just focus on the window, he told himself. Here, helpless in a hospital bed, it was easier to focus on the things that weren’t real.

But even that just led right back to Shepard.  

So much of the Shepard Kaidan had seen on Mars had looked real. Felt real. He used the same modifications on his shotgun. Same setup in his HUD. Baseline heart rate, respiration from Shepard’s suit matched the data Kaidan received three years ago. Even the hum of his corona had felt the same.

It had been so easy to fall into their old rhythm. Shepard thrived on CQC, preferring to wield his biotics like a sledgehammer. He needed support to watch his six, clear him a path. Between ECM mines and Kaidan’s more precise method with dark energy, they’d always been a natural team. On Mars they’d picked up their old habits without thinking about it, starting with the moment Shepard charged down the first hill headlong into a squad of Cerberus soldiers while Kaidan fried as many shields as he could before he got there. It had felt so…normal. One of the only things to go right since that day on Horizon.           

A small thrum of guilt ran through him, quickly accompanied by a familiar flash of anger.

 _No_ . _You did nothing wrong. Shepard came back from the dead, flying enemy colors._ The same enemy that had strung up David Archer, plugged him into a computer and called it science. Case closed.

Except that Joker and Chakwas hadn’t seen it that way. They’d believed enough in Shepard to risk their careers. Given how badly things had gone for Joker during the inquiry after Alchera, that one wasn’t too much of a stretch. But Chakwas? She was a decorated officer. Alliance to her core, willing to throw it away for Cerberus’ Shepard.

Hell, Cerberus’ Shepard had somehow rallied a team of nearly a dozen aliens to work for an anti-alien organization and go on a suicide mission to save a bunch of missing humans. And brought them back alive.

That did sound a lot like the Shepard that Kaidan had known. The one who could get a krogan and a turian to serve on the same ship. Convince that krogan to abandon his chance at curing the genophage. The one who had gotten a crew full of dedicated Alliance personnel to mutiny and steal a prototype frigate to save the galaxy.

So why did Kaidan still look at him and see Cerberus? What did they see that he didn’t?

He looked away from the window. It hurt his eyes, anyway. He fumbled for a button that would make the glass opaque. Of course, with the double vision he couldn’t figure out which damn button it was. He turned his head towards the door, hoping to summon someone to do it for him.

That was when he caught sight of an unfamiliar silhouette standing with his back to the long glass window outside his door. Arms crossed, standing straight and still, so still for a moment Kaidan wasn’t sure he was real. A frill adorned his head, but it wasn’t turian.

Kaidan’s fingers twitched uneasily, instinctively reaching for a sidearm that wasn’t there. Not that he could shoot straight.

Was it a _drell_? What would a drell want with him?

His breath ran a little quicker, which only made his head pound a little harder. His finger was on the call button when Dr. Michel walked down the corridor, greeted the stranger parked outside warmly and unlocked Kaidan’s door. The drell nodded at her. Kaidan couldn’t see well enough to judge his expression. Not that he would know how to judge the expression of a drell. Kaidan had never actually seen one in person.

“Major,” Dr. Michel said warmly upon entering.

“Who is that,” Kaidan demanded, sitting up.

“A friend,” she assured him gently, placing a calming hand on his arm. “Relax. He is a patient here. He goes by Tannor Nuara, and he is…protecting you.”

“From what?”

“From Cerberus. In the event they try to…” She exhaled through her nose. “Finish you off, as he put it.”

“I see,” Kaidan murmured, settling back down a little. He should probably be a little more alarmed that reprisal from Cerberus wasn’t something he’d considered before now. But between what had gone down on Aite and now Mars…maybe he should start considering it.

Kaidan had never thought of himself as someone who needed protecting, not since BAaTT, but right now he couldn’t defend himself. He chewed his lip.

“Why?” he asked, as she began taking her daily scans. “What do I matter to him?”

“We all have a mutual friend, it seems,” she replied, already absorbed in her work.

Shepard.

Kaidan glanced once more out the window. The drell still had not moved. Another alien. From the suicide mission? Possibly, though Kaidan didn’t remember seeing the name Nuara in any of the reports he’d managed to cobble together.

There was a time when he hadn’t needed to depend on reports to know what Shepard was up to. It hurt more than he wanted to admit.

He submitted himself to the usual rounds of tests, questions and medication adjustments. When Dr. Michele finally departed, Kaidan was exhausted.

And Nuara was still there.

~

Recovery came slower than he would like, but Kaidan’s vision finally reconciled and the headaches gave him longer reprieves. Dr. Michel gave him permission to be up and about, which made him feel a little less like an invalid and a little more like someone who had been asked to become a Spectre. He was pretty sure Spectres should have enough physical prowess to take a stroll around the hospital grounds unassisted.

Spectre Kaidan Alenko. It didn’t feel right. Well, it did and it didn’t. Having to think so hard about something after having your brain rattled by an AI-driven mech was a little overwhelming. It would be nice if there was someone he could talk to.

There was someone. But Kaidan had all but accused that person of treason. Called him a husk.

_(How could you think I’m like him?)_

_(I don’t know what you are.)_

Movement caught his eye as he ambled past one of the physical therapy rooms, even though there weren’t any active sessions. Just one occupant, a drell, performing a complex series of calisthenics. Each movement was fluid, liquid fast, more akin to watching someone dance than watching someone exercise.

 _Nuara_.

Kaidan had seen the drell a few other times, usually outside his door, but never managed to speak with him. He stood in the doorway, watching. Nuara gave no sign he was aware of an audience, but Kaidan did not doubt his presence was known.

In mid-pivot, Nuara doubled over, chest heaving with a wet cough, accompanied by the harsh wheezing of someone who couldn’t pull air into his lungs. The drell’s body, so eloquently balanced a moment ago, became a twisting, flailing pile of limbs and momentum headed for a hard impact with the floor.

Kaidan didn’t even realize he’d acted until he’d already execute the pneumonic that summoned a snare of dark energy, catching him before he hit.

The roaring knot of pain that had been gradually subsiding in the back of Kaidan’s skull raged to life. Hissing through his teeth, he let go of the gravity well and sat heavily on the nearest bench, cradling his head in his hands. A drop of blood splashed onto his knee. Kaidan wiped his nose in disgust.

“Remind me not to do that again,” he said through clenched teeth.

The drell regarded him calmly from his spot on the floor, the inner eyelid of his wide, black eyes slicking shut. “Shall I get a doctor?” he asked. Kaidan couldn’t tell if the croak in his voice was normal, or a symptom of the wracking cough that was clearly coming from his lungs.

“Funny, I was going to ask you the same thing.”

Nuara handed him a tissue before sitting down in a chair across from him, adopting a posture that was both relaxed and alert at the same time. It reminded him eerily of Shepard.

“It would appear neither of us are at our peak.”

Kaidan couldn’t help the bitter laugh that crossed his lips. “I noticed that.”

Silence followed. Kaidan pressed the tissue against his nose, closing his eyes in an attempt to stop the sledgehammer having its way with his skull.

“You’ve been watching me,” Kaidan said finally. Apparently drell could handle uncomfortable silences better than humans.

Another blink. “I told Shepard I would keep you under my protection while you were vulnerable.”

Kaidan winced. He’d been feeling decidedly less vulnerable until about thirty seconds ago. The regression was unwelcome. “I hope you’ll pardon me for asking, but you seem a little vulnerable yourself.”

“I am certainly not in the Illusive Man’s good graces, but it is unlikely he will waste Cerberus resources trying to kill someone who is already dying,” Nuara replied, as though he were merely commenting on how ordinary the weather had been. “I imagine death by Kepral’s syndrome as opposed to a quick blade is more satisfying to him.”

“I’m…sorry,” Kaidan said.

“I am at peace,” Nuara said simply. “However you are not. I understand you have been wishing to speak with me. I thought it prudent to wait until you were on your feet.”   

“Yeah.  I suppose I have been.” He checked the tissue again. No more blood. Well, at least it had been a minor one. Small favors, anyway.  

“You were on Shepard’s team through the Omega 4, weren’t you?”

Nuara nodded.

“Why?” Kaidan asked after a long pause. “It was a suicide mission. On Cerberus’ payroll.”

“I was not there for Cerberus,” Nuara informed him. “And I was not on their payroll. I took the mission non gratis.”

“A _suicide_ mission? Why?”

“I needed a good death,” Nuara replied. “Shepard needed a weapon. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement.”

Kaidan shifted in his seat. Nuara tilted his head.

“That explanation makes you uncomfortable.”

“Yes,” Kaidan said with a hash exhale. “People are more than weapons.”

“Ah. I see. You are afraid that the code Shepard abides by has changed since his recovery with Cerberus.”

“Sounds awfully simple when you say it,” Kaidan said wryly. Fighting for the greater good without reducing the people you were fighting for to spreadsheets and tactics was a moral tightrope Shepard had been walking since the day Kaidan met him. He understood the consequences of hard decisions better than anyone Kaidan had ever met.

_(You know it’s the right choice, LT)_

Shepard had looked in the mirror every day expecting to see Saren looking back at him. It was moments like Virmire, people like Ashley, that kept him on the edge of the brink instead of falling headlong into it. So the notion that he would look at someone like Nuara and see him as nothing more than a weapon felt…wrong. It wasn’t the Shepard he had known.

Something in the drell’s face softened. “Are you familiar with drell beliefs about the body and spirit?”

Kaidan shook his head, which only amplified the throbbing.

“We see them as two distinct entities,” Nuara explained. “When in harmony, they are whole. Complete. Yet when the spirit is wounded, the body sometimes acts alone. We cease to be ourselves and instead become an empty vessel, sailing the sea without a compass to guide us.”

Kaidan hesitated, trying to assemble the idea in a brain stubbornly preoccupied with damage control. “Okay.”

Nuara leaned in a little closer. “I did not know the Shepard you are looking for. The one I knew was a vessel. His spirit was asleep.” The drell wheezed, and sat straighter. “His friends were worried about him. Particularly Vakarian and Joker.”

“What do you mean?” Kaidan asked with a frown.

The drell’s dark pupils dilated, head canting to the side, body hypnotically still.

> _Two am, can’t sleep. The corridor is dim. I approach the mess looking for a cup of tea, expecting to be alone. But there are hushed whispers. Human. Turian. I stop, hidden in the shadows. Vakarian should have heard me. His vigilance is sharp. But not tonight. Tonight he is not listening._

Kaidan shifted uncomfortably in his chair, eyes darting around the room. Whatever was happening, it felt like a horrible invasion of privacy. But not one he was able or willing to stop.

> _‘He wasn’t supposed to go alone,’ says the human voice. Joker. His hands wring. Turian subvocals answer. ‘He took the shuttle a half hour before I was supposed to meet him. There wasn’t anything I could do.’_

Nuara even replicated their mannerisms. Kaidan shivered.

> _Joker takes a drink from a bottle. It is not his first. ‘Has he said anything to you since he got back?’ Garrus’ head shakes no. ‘Straight to his quarters. Been there ever since.’ Joker rubs his temples. Even in the shadows I can see he is tired. They are both tired._
> 
> _‘This is bad, Garrus. I’d like to think I’ve gotten pretty good about coming up with ways to pull him out of a funk, but this is different. I…don’t know what to do.’ Garrus thrums in response. ‘He was dead for two years. How can any of us know what to do?’_
> 
> _They are silent. A glass clinks. Liquid pours. ‘We’re losing him,’ Joker says. There is no sarcasm. Just fear. ‘I know,’ Garrus replies._
> 
> _I wait for them to continue, but they drink in silence. I retreat. I should not have lingered._

The lump in Kaidan’s throat ached when he tried to swallow. His tongue felt thick. Dry. He dreaded the question he was about to ask, and dreaded the answer even more. “Where did he go that he wasn’t supposed to go?”

“Alchera.”

Kaidan scrubbed the top of his thighs with his palms, bracing himself against the kick of an energy blast from the _Normandy’s_ drive core going up. Tuned out the aghast cries from Nijinsky, Padgett, Solis as their escape pod came in too steep to achieve orbit. Saw Alchera’s white, gleaming surface growing larger in the window. Listened to the crunch of snow under his boots as he roamed from pod to pod, checking for survivors. Numbed himself to the static in his ears every time he checked Shepard’s comm link.

Shepard was dead. Shepard was dead. Shepard was dead.

Kaidan stood abruptly, head be damned, and walked a few feet away to stare at a wall. The floor. Anything but the motionless drell sitting in that chair.

“My apologies,” Nuara’s voice croaked a minute or so later, much closer than Kaidan had been expecting. He jumped. “I forget how unsettling eidetic memory can be to outsiders. You wanted truth. That seemed the best way to provide it.”

Kaidan turned to find Nuara standing behind him, hands clasped loosely behind his back.

“I…appreciate that.”

Nuara blinked. “I joined Shepard’s team because my life was nearing its end and my…legacy is not one that will be revered. I wanted my last mission to mean more than the sum of my many mistakes. Stopping the Collectors, guiding my body with my own spirit, seemed a fitting last act.”

“Except you came back.”

“Shepard, as you know, is far from ordinary.”

“Yes,” Kaidan said softly. “He is that.”

The lump returned to his throat. He’d mourned Shepard for two years. Now he was back from the dead and Kaidan had no more idea what to do about it than he had on Horizon. He turned away again, pinching the bridge of his nose. _Breathe in_ , he thought to himself. _Breathe in, breathe out._

Nuara put a hand on Kaidan’s arm. It felt unnaturally cold. “Shepard helped me realize that my own death in battle was not what my spirit desired. Death is inevitable, whatever form it chooses to take. It is how we live that matters. And there were…matters I had not faced yet. Dying before I had confronted them would have been my greatest mistake. Thanks to Shepard, it was one I did not make.”

That, at least, sounded like the Shepard Kaidan knew. “I’m…glad.”  

Nuara let go of his arm. “I regret that I can’t give you the answers you’re looking for. But if Shepard is to win his fight against the reapers, he needs spirits like yours to guide him, as he helped guide me.”

“Thanks,” he murmured. But when he turned around, Nuara was already gone.

~

The migraine took two more days to fully subside. The first time he woke to a clear head, he found someone sitting in the chair next to his bed. Shoulders hunched, arms resting in his lap, poking at a cup of red gelatin sitting on Kaidan’s untouched lunch tray.

“Shepard,” he said, heart skipping a beat.

Shepard gave the cup one last jab, then looked up. “Hey. You look a little better than last time.”

“What are you doing here?” Kaidan asked, struggling to sit up. Shepard hit his feet in an instant, soft pressure from his hand pushing Kaidan back down. A whisper from the local gravity well passed between them. His hand was firm but gentle. Warm. Kaidan held his breath.

“At ease, Major.”

“I’m fine, Shepard.”

Shepard snorted, but removed his hand and retook his seat. “Like hell.”

“What are you doing here?”

Shepard poked at the gelatin again, gaze uncharacteristically elsewhere. Kaidan frowned. Shepard always looked people in the eye. “Delivering an old friend to safety. And not in a rush to go back to Tuchanka, where Wrex is going to cash all his chips and refuse to help the turians unless I cure the genophage.”

“Wrex wants you to cure the genophage. Just like that. In the middle of a war. _The_. War.”

Shepard shrugged. “I know a guy.”

Kaidan couldn’t help but chuckle a little. Shepard _knew a guy_. It was such a…Shepard thing to say, and yet he wouldn’t be the slightest bit surprised if it were true.

A smile quirked the corners of Shepard’s mouth. “Been a while since I’ve heard you laugh.”   

Whatever Cerberus had done to him, that quirk was still exactly the same. It was a small thing, but a comforting one. “Yeah,” Kaidan said, swallowing a little. “Guess it has been. Not that much to laugh about lately.”

“Reapers don’t really have a sense of humor, no.”

They fell silent, save for some conspicuous shifting of arms and legs. Shepard ran a thumb across his forehead to alleviate an invisible itch.

Kaidan took a moment to look at him. Really look. On Horizon and Mars he hadn’t let himself really look. See. All he’d been able to focus on was what _wasn’t_ , not what was. The scar might have been missing from above his lip, but the lines on his forehead from scowling, the creases at the corners of his eyes from smiling were the same. His amp was different – an L5 compatible model from Serrice – meaning Cerberus had indeed upgraded his implant. But the ripple in the air whenever Shepard casually poked at the gravity well – and he _always_ poked at it, the way other people chewed on pen caps – felt exactly the same.

“How are things out there?” Kaidan asked finally. “In here your sense of reality gets a little warped.”

“Just be glad you’re still in here.”

“I shouldn’t be in here,” Kaidan said, expression darkening. “I should be out there. Helping. We need everyone.”

“And you accuse me of being impatient.”

“You haven’t spent as much time in places like this as I have,” Kaidan pointed out.

Shepard looked at his feet. Rubbed the back of his neck. “Dunno, think I have you beat on that one, now.”

Fuck. Kaidan winced. Funny how in the moments that felt familiar he was able to completely forget about everything that had changed between them. Like spending two years on a lab table.

“Yeah. Ok. I think you have me on that one.”

More feet shuffling. Shepard began fidgeting with the gelatin again. Kaidan couldn’t for the life of him think why Shepard had come.

“I heard about Udina’s offer,” Shepard said finally.

Why couldn’t they find something simple to talk about? Like the weather. Hanar opera. Anything. “Ah. Yes. That.”

“You going to take it?”

“I don’t know,” Kaidan replied. “Another Spectre seems like something humanity could use. Can’t quite put aside the feeling it’s just a PR move, though. This is Udina, after all.”

“You should take it.”

Kaidan looked up in surprise. This time Shepard was looking him in the eye. That unflinching, piercing stare that was so hard to escape. “I…”

“Whatever falling out you and I have had doesn’t change who you are,” Shepard said. “You’re the best soldier I’ve ever served with. You should do it. No one deserves it more.”

Kaidan sat in dumbfounded silence. “Thanks, Shepard.”

Shepard got to his feet. “Yeah, well. I know you. You get in your own head about these kinds of things. Wasn’t sure if you had someone these days who knew how to go in and fish you out.”

No. He didn’t. He forced a smile.

Shepard headed for the door.

“Wait, Shepard.”

Shepard halted, turned.

“Look,” Kaidan said haltingly, heart racing. “I know things aren’t exactly good between us. But I want them to be.”

That piercing stare had Kaidan in his crosshairs, but for the life of him he couldn’t interpret it.

“Yeah,” Shepard said after an achingly long pause. “Me too.”

“Okay,” Kaidan said.

“Okay,” Shepard said with a nod. “I expect you back on your feet, Major. And if you can’t find at least twelve different ways to annoy the shit out of Udina on your first day as a Spectre, then I didn’t teach you well enough.”

Kaidan forced a laugh.

“See you around, Alenko.”

“Take care, Shepard.”

Shepard left, sucking half of the air out of the room with him. Kaidan exhaled, hands shaking. It wasn’t exactly the reconciliation he had hoped for, but it was a step. In the middle of a galaxy on fire, it was a step.

~

The woman who sat down in the lobby across from him was not exactly what Kaidan had pictured.

“I fucking hate hospitals,” she said, smoothing back a loose strand hair. All but the top of her head was shaved, and the only skin Kaidan could see that was free of tattoos was her face. “I don’t know how the fuck Thane basically lives here. I’d rather set a ship on a collision course with an asteroid than drown in my own fucking fluids, but if that’s how he gets his kicks.” She shrugged.

“I’m sorry…who are we talking about?”

“The lizard who already has about thirty different ideas on how to kill you the first time you shake his hand?”

“Nuara?”

“Is that what he’s calling himself these days.” She leaned back in her chair, thunking her booted feet on the small table in front of them. “Ok, sure. Nuara. So why the hell am I here?”

“I….” This was not going how he imagined.

She looked him up and down, eyes narrowing slightly. “Hey. You’re the dick from Horizon, aren’t you?”

Kaidan coughed into his hand. Stuttered. “Ah…

“I thought so.” She folded her arms across her chest and shook her head, chuckling. “Boy you really fucked Shepard up.

Now Kaidan bristled. “Ok, can we back up for a second? I’m Major Kaidan Alenko and you have got to be Jack.”

Her smile intensified, but there was nothing amiable in it. “Look here, pretty boy. You can shove your rank in the face of someone who gives a shit. You wanted to meet about Shepard and I showed up, because the asshole just saved my ass again. If you don’t like what you get out of it, not my problem.”

Kaidan held up his palms. “Okay. Stand down. Yes. I wanted to talk to you. Yes. I was on Horizon. I served with Shepard before he died, and I’m trying to understand what went down after Cerberus brought him back.”

“Why don’t you just ask him.”

Kaidan sighed in frustration. “Because it’s not that simple.”

Jack rolled her eyes. “Of course it’s not.”

“He came back from the dead,” Kaidan snapped. “There’s not exactly a protocol for that.”

She offered a languid shrug. “Unless you’re Garrus. Who follows him around like a fucking puppy dog. You know, I really thought those two were banging until you showed up.”

Kaidan straightened in his chair. “I’m sorry?”

Jack snapped her fingers, and Kaidan felt a small shift in the local gravity well as she called to light a small biotic flame that she proceeded to toy with. “That bullshit on Horizon’s was a lover’s quarrel if I ever saw one.”

“Oh. No. You misunderstand—”

She cut him off. “Shepard was a pissed off dude when I met him, but I figured that had something to do with having to work with a bitch like Miranda Lawson every day. And possibly the fact that I’d managed to hole that prison ship after he asked so nicely for them to sell me off like a fucking slave.”

Her lips twisted into a proud smile.

“But,” she continued. “Then you showed up on Horizon. And believe me, what ever the fuck that was?” She swirled a finger in Kaidan’s direction. “Shepard went a whole different kind of dark side after that. I thought Garrus was going to shit a brick. That kind of reaction wasn’t because he respects you and your little Boy Scout heart. It’s because he wants to fuck you. Or hold your hand and snuggle. Whatever the fuck he’s into.”

Kaidan opened his mouth, but no sound came out. This…definitely wasn’t going as planned.

“Look,” she said, and there was something oddly kind in her voice. “You didn’t ask for my advice but I’m going to give it to you, because David Archer is one of my students at Grissom Academy—”

Kaidan froze.

“—and as I understand it, he owes his life to you and that Cerberus shit you blew up on Aite. So as a fellow Cerberus abuse victim, I owe you some thanks.”

Kaidan flexed his fingers. Cerberus had turned David into a thing simply because his abilities were more valuable to them than his humanity. It made Kaidan’s experiences with Vyrnnus seem like getting off easy.   

“You don’t have to thank me for seeing him as a person instead of a commodity,” Kaidan said finally.

She laughed again, and this time it felt genuine. “You know, Joker called you the Biotic Wonder Boy once, and I’m starting to see why.”

Kaidan rolled his eyes. “That sounds like Joker.”

Jack grinned. “Right. Anyway. Advice. Shepard’s made me a little soft and fuck knows he deserves a little happiness. So pull the stick out of your ass and get over it, whatever it is. I don’t know if you noticed, but Armageddon is on our fucking doorstep, and Shepard’s already died once and saved the galaxy twice. Whatever blind luck he’s playing with won’t last forever.”

She launched to her feet, walked behind him and clamped her hands on his shoulders, leaning in close to his ears. “And if you come across the Illusive Man? Fuck him up for me.” She straightened. “Now if you’ll excuse me, I have shit to do.”

When she left, Kaidan exhaled.

That really, really hadn’t gone according to plan.

~

So many things hadn’t gone according to plan.

Alchera had been a routine mission. A colossal waste of time, as Pressly had put it when he brushed past Kaidan in the corridor on his way to start his shift, scowl on his face. His last shift. Kaidan could still smell the coffee that had been on his cup; he’d almost spilled it as they’d tried to avoid each other. Not half an hour later he was dead. Shepard was dead. The _Normandy_ was gone.

There had been a moment, after the first salvo. The last time Kaidan had seen him. Shepard was sending the SOS and sounding the evacuation order. There had just been one moment of hesitation. Just a small tightening of the shoulders. Involuntary, subtle, so quick that if Kaidan hadn’t been watching so closely he would have missed it. But then it was gone. Shepard had made his decision. No going back.

 _Go. Now,_ had been the order, as the _Normandy_ shuddered in its death throes. Kaidan was a marine. He followed orders. Some days he didn’t think he knew how to do anything else. So he’d gone to his escape pod, while Shepard went after Joker. Disengaged the clamps and watched the _Normandy_ , what was left of her, shrink.

The comms had been so jammed with chatter, SOSs overlapping as one by one each escape pod ejected away from the wreck _._ Then the drive core had exploded. At first all Kaidan had cared about was the flatline on Shepard’s hardsuit feed. No connection. No life signs to broadcast.

No. No. It was a mistake. So was the static on the comm.

Everyone who had made it out was rattled, scared, no chain of command stepping in to guide them. _Why isn’t someone taking charge?_ He remembered thinking. Until it dawned on him.

Pressly was dead. And Shepard’s hardsuit was offline.

He hadn’t made it to a pod.

No one had taken command because _Kaidan_ was in command. And over the course of seven painful hours he had taken inventory of each surviving pod, confirmed each survivor, evaluated whether their orbit was stable enough to wait for rescue or if they needed to prepare for re-entry. It had worked for Lipinski, Jeffords and Vasiliev. It hadn’t worked for Bakari, Laflamme and Crosby. Three more names to add to the list. Twenty two total.

Including Shepard.

It could have been worse. The words tasted bad coming out of his mouth, but that didn’t make them any less true. _It could have been worse_. For Tali, who had been in Engineering and saw what happened to Grenado, he supposed it had been worse. Because she had to live with it.

For Joker, he knew it had been worse. It was no surprise he’d blown up at an Admiral in the middle of the inquiry interview. The look on the pilot’s face when they got him out of his pod was something Kaidan would take to his grave.

_(He…was right there.)_

Just like that, Shepard was gone. That crooked smile. The thick-as-tar coffee he subjected them all to. Their two am chats in the mess because they were both terrible sleepers and Shepard had a bad habit of forgetting to eat. That give and take on the battlefield that they’d never had to learn, because it came so effortlessly. All of it was gone.

Kaidan had done the best he could to get through the next two years without drowning, some days more successful than others. That was until Aite. Until Horizon.

The covert mission to Aite was one of those other things that hadn’t gone according to plan. _Investigate rumors of a Cerberus presence_ , had been the parameters. Kaidan had been expecting another lab. Another idiotic attempt to do something stupid with technology they didn’t understand.

Well, he’d been right. He just hadn’t been prepared for _how_ right. It was only years of practice controlling his anger, controlling his abilities, controlling every move he made to ensure no one ever got hurt again because he acted on impulse, that had kept him from snapping Gavin Archer’s neck at the sight of the tubes protruding from his brother’s mouth, the sounds of David’s desperate pleas for help repeating endlessly over the comm system.

Many nights, Kaidan had wondered if he’d done the right thing by _not_ killing Gavin Archer right there on the spot. He’d done that to his own _brother._ Someone who couldn’t defend himself. He’d done it in the name of science. For Cerberus.

Less than a month later, Shepard had shown up on Horizon.

That hadn’t gone according to plan, either.  

Of course, with Horizon, there hadn’t been a plan. There’d just been Kaidan, Shepard, and a two year gap neither of them knew how to cross. Not with a Cerberus logo on Shepard’s chest.

_You were dead. I saw it. I saw the Normandy explode. And now you’re here, alive…and you’re with them._

The people who had decided that David Archer’s humanity was irrelevant. Shepard had been _with them_ . Working for _them_. Just thinking about it made Kaidan’s hands shake.

But if he asked himself, really asked himself, why Horizon had gone so badly, maybe he would admit that what had hurt the most wasn’t that Shepard was flying Cerberus colors. It was seeing Garrus at his side. Hearing Joker over the comm. He’d come for them, but Kaidan hadn’t known. Shepard was alive and Kaidan hadn’t known. What hurt the most was realizing the only thing worse than losing Shepard was getting him back. Being the last to know when you wanted to be the first.

~

Things never went according to plan, not really. Not with Shepard. Eden Prime. Noveria. Virmire. Alchera. Shepard was like a ship that skipped off the atmosphere every time he set a course for re-entry. With Shepard there was no script. No rehearsal. You just had to go with your gut.

So with Udina behind him, Shepard in front of him and the barrel of a gun between them, Kaidan couldn’t help but marvel at how spectacularly things had gone sideways. So much for his first day on the job as a Spectre.

 _He’s with Cerberus_ , Udina was saying, while around them the Presidum smoked and burned.

Kaidan tightened his grip on his Carnifex. It was the first time he’d held it in weeks. “Just hang on,” he said, his voice sounding distant and tinny in his own ears, like it was coming from someone else. “I’ve got this.”

 _(Please make it stop_ )

“Kaidan, you have to trust me.”

It seemed so easy. Shepard was right here. Right here in front of him. If you closed your eyes and didn’t think, you could imagine that nothing had happened. That Alchera had gone according to plan, and Horizon had never happened. This was just another mission, like that damned trip to Eletania with the godforsaken monkeys. Having Garrus and Liara at Shepard’s back just made it that much easier to believe.

But it wasn’t just another mission. Shepard had died, David Archer had begged for help, and Horizon hadn’t gone according to plan. And now they were looking at each other down the barrel of a gun.

_(He’s with Cerberus)_

_(Please make it stop)_

_(Kaidan you have to trust me)_

It was Kaidan’s job to protect the Council. Whatever had happened with Cerberus, wherever Shepard’s loyalties really lay, in this moment all that mattered – all that was supposed to matter – was the mission. That meant pulling the trigger. One way or another. Only thing left to decide was the target.

_(if Shepard is to win his fight against the reapers, he needs spirits like yours to guide him, as he helped guide me)_

Shepard’s shoulders tightened. It was a small movement, involuntary, subtle, so quick that if Kaidan hadn’t been watching so closely he would have missed it. Then, very deliberately, everything about Shepard’s stance softened. Unwound. He lowered his gun.

_(Shepard’s already died once and saved the galaxy twice. Whatever blind luck he’s playing with won’t last forever)_

Kaidan held his breath. And went with his gut.

~

The _Normandy_ gleamed sleek and long through the windows of docking bay D24, familiar but not familiar at the same time. Right shape but not the right size. Same name, different paint. On board there would be faces he recognized, others he didn’t. Some who would be happy to see him, others who wouldn’t. He would be lying bitterly if he didn't hope Shepard fell into the former category. But Shepard wouldn't have asked him to come aboard otherwise.

Right?

Was he doing the right thing? Did he have any idea what that was any more? Did it even _matter_?

The only belongings he even had to bring aboard were whatever effects he had accrued during his stay at Huerta. He’d had a footlocker on Earth, but it hadn’t exactly come with him when they’d hijacked the _Normandy_ and fled, leaving Anderson behind. The small shoulder bag he had with him contained a spare uniform, a stick of deodorant and some toothpaste. He’d left the crappy razor in his hospital room.

He had a feeling that the promotion to Spectre was supposed to have been part of his trip to Earth. Speak for Shepard, offer his assessment of the reaper threat, get crowned the next human Spectre in front of a bunch of cameras so the Alliance could replace the one they already had locked in their well-appointed brig. The reapers actually showing up and razing Vancouver had not exactly been part of the plan.

His thoughts drifted to the sight of that burning skyline, the skyline of his childhood, and how within a matter of minutes one of the constants in his life had simply been erased. No matter where his career had taken him, his parents’ condo had always been an anchor. A place to come back to. The balcony overlooking English Bay. The hockey trophy he’d “won” when he was five still on a shelf in his old bedroom. The map of the mass relays he’d taped to the wall when he was thirteen and had stars in his eyes. The stupid ceramic giraffe they called Elmo that sat in the front hall, tall as Kaidan’s chest. Those things, as small and silly as they were, had always been there. Would always be there, as far as he’d ever been concerned.

Now all he had left was this shoulder bag and a ship that used to be home but wasn’t anymore. There was no anchor. No place to come back to. Just a way to move forward. An imperfect way. Because he was fairly certain that putting both human Spectres on the same ship was not what Udina had had in mind.

But Udina was dead. Kaidan had shot him, first day on the job.

Nothing like taking out your boss to get things started.

He was still staring out the window when a familiar presence settled in beside him. Arms draped over the railing, familiar bow in his shoulders, weight on his left foot. Before Cerberus Shepard had always rested his right foot because of that bad hip. Kaidan wondered if that was still true or now just a force of habit. Had Cerberus rebuilt that hip the way they'd upgraded his amp, or had their “bring him back the same as before” mantra extended to nagging injuries? There was so much about Shepard he needed to relearn. And yet so much he didn't.

“Remember when I said you should annoy the shit out of Udina?” Shepard asked.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said, flushing a little.

“That wasn't exactly what I had in mind.”

Kaidan jabbed his toe at the railing. "First day jitters, I guess.”

Shepard smiled a little, but it faded quickly. “You did the right thing. For whatever that’s worth coming from the guy Udina would have loved to see you put a bullet in.”

“He wouldn’t have enjoyed it, Shepard. The real Udina, at least. Not whatever indoctrinated puppet he was at the end.”

Shepard raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Kaidan shook his head. “You two may not have seen eye to eye on anything, but he respected you. Most of the time. You wanted the same things. Just…had different ways of achieving them.”

Shepard huffed in distaste. “I didn’t hand Cerberus the keys to the Citadel.”

“But you did accept their help when it was convenient,” Kaidan pointed out, unable to keep some of the bitterness from slipping through. “Use them to accomplish your goals. The difference is that you won and he lost.”

Shepard was silent for several painful seconds. Still. When he finally spoke his voice almost sounded small. “Yeah. I guess I deserve that.”

Kaidan sighed. “You didn’t _deserve_ it. I just.”

“You’re you,” Shepard replied, not unkindly.

“I guess.” He thought back to that moment. The barrel of his gun staring down the barrel of Shepard’s. The real Shepard. Because that’s what shooting Udina had meant, wasn’t it? That he believed. “Would you have shot me?” he asked.

Shepard’s Adam’s apple jumped. Briefly his eyes flicked to his hands. “I trusted you to do the right thing.” That half smile came back for half a heartbeat. “You know, because you’re you.”

“But you didn’t shoot Udina, either. I did. That doesn’t strike me as the Shepard I know.”

“Back to that, are we?” he asked, and there was something tired in his voice. Heavy.

“No,” Kaidan said quickly. “I’m just…wondering. Hesitation isn’t something you know how to do. This was something else. I’m just asking what.”

“I thought it was a decision you needed to make for yourself,” Shepard replied. “Not stopping me from taking him out was one thing. Taking the shot yourself…you’re a Spectre. It was your call. I just chose not to interfere.”

Kaidan nodded.

“What convinced you to trust me?” Shepard asked. “What finally convinced you I’m not some Cerberus sleeper agent with an ocular flashbang planted in my skull?”

Kaidan winced at how close to home that actually hit. “It was right before you lowered your weapon.”

“Before?”

“Yeah. You have a tell.”

Shepard snorted. “A _tell?_ ”

Another nod. “It’s a thing you do. Not sure I can really explain it. Everything about you just tightens up, right before you do something really…”

“Stupid?”

Kaidan chuckled in spite of himself. “Well, I was going to say risky. You did it on Noveria when you set the rachni queen loose. Virmire when you sent Ashley to work with the salarians. The Citadel when you told Joker to send in the fleet.” He hesitated. “And Alchera…when you ordered me to a pod.”

Shepard fell silent, looking at something out the window that Kaidan couldn’t see.

“I saw a lot of things that made me think it was really you. But for some reason, that’s the one that got me. You made your decision and were going to live with it, even if it meant I took you out. I can’t explain it but…that’s just you. Not something anyone could replicate. Or fake.”

“Would you have?”

“Would I have what?”

“Shot me.” Shepard shrugged. “Only fair I get to ask, too.”

Kaidan swallowed. Gripped the railing a little tighter. “No,” he said after a long pause. “I wasn’t…” He took a deep breath. Closed his eyes. “I couldn’t lose you again.”

Shepard nodded. Scuffed his foot on the floor. For a while neither of them spoke.

“Remember the first time we caught a view like this?” Shepard asked after a moment.

Kaidan glanced over him in surprise. He was usually the sentimental one, not Shepard.

Shepard kept his gaze trained on the window, looking beyond the _Normandy_ and out into the cosmic dust and billowing gases of the Serpent Nebula bleeding out into space. “That spot down in the wards,” he went on, sounding distant. “Before they made me a Spectre and sent us after Saren. Before they gave me the _Normandy._ Hell, before we met Garrus. Tali. Before all of it. Just you, me and Ashley wondering where humanity fit in all this mess.”

“Long time ago,” Kaidan said softly. “Or feels like it, at least.”

Shepard nodded.

He looked tired. Even more so than he had after Virmire. Since being brought back the weight on his shoulders had grown heavier, not lighter. Kaidan wondered when it was he’d last slept. Which made him wonder when _he’d_ last slept. Cerberus had attacked in the middle of the night, and Kaidan actually had no idea how much time had passed since then. Had there been another night in between the chaos? Maybe.

“You ok, Shepard?” Kaidan asked. It wasn’t really his place to ask. One time it had been, but not anymore.

“It’s been a shitty day,” Shepard replied, then pulled away from the railing. “And still time for it to get shittier.” He started walking towards the airlock, then stopped and looked over his shoulder. “You coming?”

For just a moment, the galaxy stopped.

“Yeah,” Kaidan said finally, throat dry. “Yeah, I’m right behind you.”

~

It took Kaidan a few days to figure out the new ship’s layout. It was close enough to the original that his muscle memory kept kicking in, meaning he took the lift down to the cargo bay at least three times looking for engineering. Some things, like the projection of the galaxy map in the center of the CIC, felt almost unchanged if you closed your eyes and didn’t think too hard. Others, like the war room, were a harsh reminder that nothing was the same as it had been before the distress call from Eden Prime.

And then there was EDI. No one had thought to mention that the mech that had nearly shattered his skull was now the portable home of an AI in control of their life support systems. He’d thought Joker was going to kill him when he pulled his sidearm the first time she rounded the corner. It had taken quick intervention from Garrus to prevent things from going horribly awry. Seeing her walking the corridors still made his gut clench.

It took him longer than it should have to notice that EDI started going out of her way to make sure the mech rarely crossed his path, and relegated most of their interaction to the comm system. Maybe she really was all right.

Other differences weren’t so jarring. There was a Kodiak in the cargo bay instead of the Mako, and this version of the ship had a lounge. An observation deck. Definitely a civilian touch. After so many years of sparse military “nothing but essentials” living, it was kind of nice to sit in a recliner with a bottle of beer.

The Cerberus design had apparently upgraded the Captain’s quarters from its humble spot on Deck 3 of the original _Normandy._ After finally screwing up the courage to knock on Shepard’s door he was politely informed by an info drone calling itself “Glyph” that Liara was unavailable for appointments until the afternoon. It wasn’t until Liara shooed the drone away and offered Kaidan an impromptu tour of her mobile information center that he realized it wasn’t Shepard’s quarters at all, and he could stop running through the nightmare scenario already circling his brain.

It was another reminder that it wasn’t just the ship that had changed. Liara was a far cry from the overeager prothean scientist they had rescued on Therum. There was something hard about her now, something that reminded him of Benezia. Not a bad thing. Just one more thing that was different.

But he was different, too. The tough thing was realizing that while everyone else he’d served with on the original ship had changed just as much, they had largely done it together. Garrus. Joker. Even Liara, to an extent. Kaidan was on the outside looking in. Couldn’t expect it to be different. That didn’t make it ache any less.

It was too much to hope that Joker or Dr. Chakwas or someone from the SR-1 had kept up their Thursday night poker games. But that didn’t stop Kaidan from hoping anyway, or keep the knot of disappointment from forming when he checked the mess at 20:30 sharp, just like old times, and found it empty. Just to be sure he stuck his head in the lounge, but Vega was the only one there, pouring himself a drink.

“Take advantage of the stocks while we got ‘em, no?” the lieutenant commented. James Vega had a way of being affable but hard as a brick wall at the same time. Kaidan had seen his kind before. Had _been_ his kind, in some ways. Cared a little too much, demanded more from the world than the world was willing to give, and got more and more jaded each time the universe disappointed him. The military had a bad habit of chewing up guys like Vega and spitting them out, because there wasn’t room to take care of the person behind the gun, and the gun took priority. Not unless you were lucky enough to find someone in your unit who could see it happening and do something about it. Kaidan had a feeling Shepard was doing something about it.

“Do we still have whiskey?” Kaidan asked. He’d been thinking about another beer, but seeing the tequila bottle in Vega’s hand made him shoot a little higher.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” Vega said, and poured him a shot while Kaidan poked around the shelves. “Looking for something?” he asked as he passed off the glass.

“Deck of cards,” Kaidan answered. “Was hoping I could rally a few folks for a game of poker.”

“You mean a few suckers,” a new voice said behind him. Joker. Kaidan’s shoulders tensed ever so slightly. They had not exchanged more than a few required pleasantries since he’d come back on board, and the near shootout with the mech hadn’t exactly smoothed things over. After Alchera the two of them had met up once before Kaidan got reassigned, after the disastrous hearing. It wasn’t one of their finer moments. Add that to some unspoken baggage the two of them had already built up after Virmire, and it was no surprise they weren’t quite ready to welcome each other back with open arms.

“Well I—”

Joker cut him off by handing him a deck of cards. Kaidan was unable to conceal his surprise.

“Sorry I’m late. I had to go drag Garrus out of the battery. Dr. Chakwas is on her way, too. Vega, sit down and prepare to lose your money.”   

The marine shrugged, and sat. Kaidan sat too, in stunned silence as the others filed in. Joker nodded at him, tugging the brim of his cap. It wasn’t much, but it spoke volumes. Kaidan nodded back.

Dr. Chakwas immediately poured herself some brandy before sitting beside Kaidan, squeezing his shoulder and smiling in the process. Garrus drilled Joker on the rules to get a refresher.

“I haven’t played since Pressly cleaned me out with all the red cards,” Garrus protested when Joker complained.

Something tightened at the corner of Joker’s mouth at the mention of their old navigator. Shepard may have been the biggest wound left by Alchera, but he was far from the only.

“Do you remember how to bluff?” Joker asked.

“Joker, I bullshit the Hierarchy on almost a daily basis.”

“Then the rules don’t really matter, do they?”

Chakwas kicked back her brandy in one swallow and got up for another. “Has anyone asked the Commander to join us?”

“He’s composing a message to Kirrahe,” Garrus replied, and everyone fell silent.  The kind of silence that was sharp and raw, like trying to gulp down some air after being kneed in the stomach. Kaidan glanced around the room, saw it reflected on everyone’s face but his own.

“I need another drink,” Vega muttered.

“We lost someone on Tuchanka a few days ago,” Dr. Chakwas explained, with a look in her eye that reminded Kaidan too much of Virmire. “Before you came on board.”

Garrus’ mandibles fluttered. Joker rubbed the bridge of his nose. Vega sat back down with more tequila. This time he brought the bottle. “I didn’t understand about three quarters of what came out of that guy’s mouth,” he said, pouring shots for everyone. “But I’ll be damned if that wasn’t the most fucking heroic thing I think I’ve ever seen.”

_(I know a guy)_

“I have never met anyone who could talk that much,” Joker said, half admiration, half exasperation.

“I miss it,” Dr. Chakwas said softly. She downed the tequila almost as soon as Vega poured it. “The medbay is too quiet. Vega, be a dear and get the brandy for me?”

“Shot or bottle?”

“It’s a bottle kind of night, Lieutenant.”

“Yes ma’am.”

Kaidan observed their interactions, their grief, play out over a few hands and a few more drinks, gleaning pieces of a history he’d had no part of. While he recognized the grief he couldn’t share in it. He knew nothing about Mordin Solus, would never feel the sharp sense of loss over his death they were all fighting their way through. In the same way, none of them would ever feel that sick, heavy feeling in their stomach when someone mentioned Bukhari’s name, the member of his team who’d been killed by the geth on Aite.

His thoughts drifted to Shepard, sitting alone in his quarters, writing the kind of letter that no soldier ever wanted to write. He’d written a few of his own, including Bukhari’s. The worst had been the one to Ashley’s mother and sisters.

It was late when the game wound down. Dr. Chakwas retired for the night. Vega finally gave into his half-finished bottle of tequila and called it quits. That left Joker, Garrus and Kaidan sitting in morose silence, cards and chips scattered on the table between them. Tomorrow’s shift was going to be a bitch. But that was a problem for tomorrow.

“Been a shitty week,” Joker said finally. “First Mordin, then Thane. If we find the Flotilla and anything’s happened to Tali I think I’m going to quit the war.”

“Tali’s fine,” Garrus replied, mandible flicking.

“Yeah, how do you know that?” Joker fired back.

“Because you’re not allowed to quit the war.”

Kaidan stirred. Thane. Why did that sound familiar? “I know that name,” he said out loud. Had it not been for the whiskey, he didn’t think he actually would have said it out loud.

“Tali?” Joker asked. “Yeah, I hope you remember Tali. If you don’t, you might have gotten a harder knock in the head than we thought.”

Kaidan knew exactly how hard his head had been knocked, thank you very much. If he forgot, EDI’s mech was a sure way to remind him.

“Of course I remember Tali,” he snapped. “I mean Thane. I’ve heard that name before.”

“You didn’t know him,” Joker said, waving a dismissive hand. “We had a drell assassin onboard for the Omega 4 run.”

Ice trickled down Kaidan’s spine. Nuara.

( _Is that what he’s calling himself these days)_

“Kai Leng ran him through with a sword while he was defending the salarian councilor,” Garrus explained, talons gripping a half empty glass a little tighter. He shook his head. “I swear I thought Thane had him. If he’d been the old Thane, Kai Leng never would have walked out of there alive. Cerberus’ top assassin nearly got bested by someone drowning in his own lungs.”

_(I needed a good death. Shepard needed a weapon.)_

“I see,” Kaidan asked, swallowing. “I didn’t know.”

Joker raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t realize you knew him.”

“We met once. In Huerta.” Kaidan swirled the remnants of his glass before swallowing them. Resisted the urge to have another drink. He was at least two past his limit already. “How is Shepard handling it?”  

_(I did not know the Shepard you are looking for. The one I knew was a vessel. His spirit was asleep. His friends were worried about him. Particularly Vakarian and Joker.)_

“About like he does anything, I guess.” Joker said, studying his fingers. “He does until he doesn’t.”

Not exactly the answer Kaidan was hoping for. Garrus shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

Joker poured one last drink for each of them. Kaidan thought about arguing, but didn’t.

“To Mordin. And Thane. And Pressly. And Ashley. And everyone else.”

They drank.  

When they finally left the lounge, Garrus stopped him just outside the door. He was uncharacteristically…fidgety. It might have been the booze. The last time he’d seen Garrus drunk was after the Battle of the Citadel, and Kaidan didn't remember a whole lot of that night.

Garrus’ mandibles flicked. Kaidan waited.

“I’m going to give you something,” the turian said at last. “But before I do, I just want to make sure you know how hard I thought about it first.”

Kaidan was starting to feel uncomfortably sober. “Um.”

Garrus held up a talon. “Just hear me out.”

“Okay.”

Garrus produced a small holo. Toyed with it in his talons. “Before we went through the Omega 4, Shepard and I exchanged letters. For, well. You know. Those kinds of letters.”

Kaidan’s throat went dry.

“It _was_ a suicide mission," Garrus pointed out. "But. Anyway. The one he wrote was for you. I think you need to see it.” His brow plates shifted. Kaidan’s heart pounded in his chest. After a few moments hesitation, Garrus handed it over. “It was for you in case he died. Now, I know he's not dead, and this isn't really the kind of letter you just give someone anyway. But since he _did_ die once, I’m going to blame it on him for not being more specific if this turns out to be a really horrible decision.”

Kaidan stared at the holo now resting in his hand.

“I haven’t watched it,” Garrus continued. “My job is to watch his six, not invade his privacy. So that’s what I’m doing.” Without giving him a chance to answer – not that Kaidan really had an answer – the turian swiveled on his heel and headed for the battery.

Kaidan curled his fingers around the small cylinder to conceal how badly he was shaking. He looked around, but with Garrus now sealed in the battery there was no one to be seen.

Slowly, he began walking towards the observation deck, praying he wouldn’t find anyone in it. When the doors swished open to reveal an empty room, he sank down in the nearest chair. Turned the holo over in his hands a few times.

He didn’t have to watch it. It wasn’t meant to be watched while Shepard was alive, and he _was_ alive, really and truly alive…but Garrus wouldn’t have given it to him if he hadn’t thought it was important. You didn’t abandon your career, go on a suicide mission, or leave your people in their darkest hour if you didn’t really believe in something. Someone.

Kaidan activated his omnitool and plugged in the holo.

After a few agonizing moments, an image flickered to life. Shepard stared back at him. Shepard from a year ago, hands planted heavily on a desk, looking down towards the camera but not directly at it. Kaidan suppressed a gasp. The Shepard staring at him was gaunt. Slumped shoulders. Dark hollows under his eyes. A haunted expression on his face that made him look more dead than alive.  

_(I did not know the Shepard you are looking for. But the one I knew was a vessel. His spirit was asleep.)_

Shepard rubbed the bridge of his nose, muttered something under his breath, reached for the camera like he was about to shut it off. But then, his body tightened. It was a small movement, involuntary, subtle, so quick that if Kaidan hadn’t been watching so closely he would have missed it.

Shepard withdrew his hand. And began to speak.

_Kaidan._

_You probably know why you’re getting this message. It’s not the kind of message anyone likes to get. But I’m sending it because I don’t want it to be like before. Where I just disappear and leave the people who give a damn holding the bag. Maybe I’m going out on a limb here thinking it still matters to you, that it ever mattered, but at least if I’m wrong I won’t be around to find out.  Small comforts, right?_

_We’re going through the Omega 4. Garrus. Tali. Joker. We’re all in. One way trip. Time to make this whole charade at least mean something._

_I’ve been thinking a lot lately. Too much, probably. Not really what I’m good at. Though maybe if I’d done it a little more a little sooner I wouldn’t be in this mess. Because the truth is…you were right. About Cerberus. About me. About everything. I should have told you that on Horizon. I should have done a lot of things._

_Sometimes I can’t help but think if you’d just been there when I woke up in that bed maybe I wouldn’t have sold my soul to the devil without even knowing it. If I even still have one to sell. But that’s not on you. That’s on me._

_I’m so tired, Kaidan. Never been this tired. I’ve given everything I have and it’s not enough. Even my life wasn’t enough, because it turns out that doesn’t belong to me either. The mission comes first. It’s always come first. I don’t even know what comes second. If there was anything I ever wanted for myself I don’t remember what it is, much less how to ask for it. I guess all I really want is for it to be over._

_Maybe that’s what I want you to know. That no matter who’s pulling the strings now, it’s ending on my terms. I have a job to do. The Collectors have to be stopped. I’m going to stop them. But after that…I’ve had enough._

_I don’t belong anywhere. Not anymore. And that’s ok. You play the hand you’re dealt. It’s not so bad. After all, everything I’d want to come back to I’m taking with me._

_Except you._

_Sorry. I don’t mean to put all this on you. It’s not fair. I don’t even have the guts to say it face to face. I don’t even have the decency to die and just leave you alone. But. I needed someone out there to be thinking of me. Even if they didn’t want to be._

_So thanks for listening. Thanks…for reminding me who I used to be._

_Shepard out._

Kaidan dropped the holo. Put his head in his hands, and wept.

~

When he finally stopped, Kaidan felt hollow. Used up.

Shepard had gone through the Omega 4 not intending to come back. You could see it in his eyes. Kaidan would never unsee that look.

_(He was dead for two years. How can any of us know what to do?)_

_(We’re losing him)_

Nua—Thane. Had tried to tell him. Jack had tried to tell him. But Kaidan didn't see, because he hadn't been there. Instead he'd done what he had to do, because Kaidan was Kaidan and Shepard was Shepard, so Kaidan had walked away on Horizon and almost lost him. Again.

_(That bullshit on Horizon’s was a lover’s quarrel if I ever saw one.)_

The world spun a little.

Was he really that naïve? All this time, had they both been that naïve?

He closed his eyes and leaned forward, resting his arms in his lap and letting his head hang. Between the alcohol and the additional dehydration he’d brought on himself by crying he hadn’t exactly done his still-healing body any favors.

_(Everything I’d want to come back to I’m taking with me. Except you.)_

It seemed so obvious right here, right now, in a dark room looking out into a blanket of stars. They’d spent four years refusing to see what was right in front of them. Four years of wasted chances, four years of pining, waiting, grieving. And for what.

He needed sleep. It was late. He still wasn’t quite sober. His mother had always said that nothing good ever happens after one am, and it was far past that. He should sleep on things. Clear his head. Figure out what to do in the morning. Everything was always easier in the morning.

When he walked out of the observation deck, that was the plan.

Fuck the plan.

 ~

When Shepard answered the door – because this was his quarters and Kaidan had finally gotten something right – his eyes widened.

“Kaidan. What—”

“I wasn’t there,” Kaidan said. “You needed me, and I wasn’t there. I’m sorry.”

Shepard stepped aside, put a hand on Kaidan’s arm and pulled him gently inside. His face was neutral but Kaidan could read him like a goddamed book. Kaidan had scared him. Good. Because he was more than a little scared himself.

The door swished shut behind them. Despite the late hour, Shepard hadn’t been asleep. Not even close. Still in his fatigues, lights still on, desk covered with coffee cups and ration wrappers. Shepard dug through the clutter until he found a canteen.

“Here.”

Kaidan screwed open the cap and took a drink. There wasn’t much in it and the water was warm, but it helped. He wiped his lips.

“Better?”

“I’m not five, Shepard.”

“You banged on my door at two thirty in the morning and look like this.” He gestured at Kaidan. Almost out of curiosity Kaidan glanced at the fish tank lining the entire left wall of Shepard’s cabin to catch sight of his reflection.

No wonder Shepard had been so alarmed. Bloodshot eyes, puffed up face. Yeah. Treating him with kid gloves was probably fair.

“You have a fish tank,” he said. It was not what he had meant to say.

Shepard shrugged. “You were the one who said I should get a hobby.” He wandered towards the tank. Tapped it softly with a finger. Two sunfish fluttered towards it. “You going to tell me what the hell is going on?”

Kaidan hesitated before taking a step towards him. He didn’t want to confess what he’d just watched, but they were so far past all the things they refused to say and had been refusing to say for close to four years he couldn’t stand it any more.

_(Shepard’s already died once and saved the galaxy twice. Whatever blind luck he’s playing with won’t last forever)_

Alchera. Horizon. The Omega 4. Mars. Udina.

They’d wasted so many chances.

“Garrus showed me your letter,” he said, faltering at first, but gaining strength with each word. Shepard became very still. “You needed me,” Kaidan repeated. “I wasn’t there. And I’m sorry.”

Shepard shrugged, back still towards him. He rested an arm up against the glass and leaned his forehead against it, gaze trained on the bubbles and the swishing fins of his fish. “I died, Kaidan. I’d been dead for two years. You moved on. Had other priorities. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

Kaidan crossed the gap between them and closed his fingers gently around Shepard’s arm until he turned, shifting his weight to his left foot, like always. “Shepard,” Kaidan said softly. “I never moved on. I don’t know how.”

Slowly, tentatively, Shepard reached a hand out and cupped Kaidan’s cheek. Stroked it gently with his thumb.

 _Just breathe_.

Shepard had about four inches on him. It was the only distance they had left to cross. Kaidan hooked a hand behind Shepard’s neck and took the last leap, pulling him forward until their lips met. Soft at first. Uncertain. His lips were chapped and his breath smelled like stale coffee.

They parted. Kaidan held his breath. The only sound was the fish tank’s muted whir.

Shepard searched Kaidan’s face with that piercing stare, the one that always saw _everything._ Kaidan wasn't sure what he was looking for, but gave him the time he needed to find it.

Shepard's lips moved but no sound came out. Instead of trying again he just slid his hand from Kaidan’s cheek to his neck, pulling him in so hard and fast it chased the breath from Kaidan’s lungs.  

This time the kiss was messy. Desperate. Trying to make up for all that lost time in the span of an instant. Shepard’s hand slipped up Kaidan’s back, tugging him closer. A small, muffled sigh escaped him as he held Shepard tighter, kissed him harder, all the pain and all the grief and all the waiting and all the doubt washing out of him at once.

When they finally came up for air their foreheads touched, both of them breathing heavily, neither quite willing to let the other go. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Shepard’s fingers curled into the fabric of Kaidan’s shirt.

“I was always thinking of you,” Kaidan murmured, stroking the back of Shepard’s neck with his fingers. “And you never stopped mattering to me. I—can’t even imagine what that would feel like.”

Shepard closed his eyes. Gripped Kaidan a little tighter. Kaidan ran one hand up and down Shepard’s spine, feeling the abnormal ridges of the Cerberus tech holding him together. Different. But real.

“I wanted to go after you on Horizon,” Shepard said gruffly. “Anderson wouldn’t tell me anything about where you were. What you were up to. And then…there you were, and I didn’t stop you.”

“Because I’m me, and you’re you.”

A small laugh slipped past Shepard’s lips, warming Kaidan’s cheek. “Yeah. Something like that. Afterwards I wanted to contact you. But then Jack got her hands on the Overlord mission report.”

Kaidan grimaced.

“And…I understood. I wouldn’t have trusted me either. I figured the best thing I could do for you was just leave you alone.” Shepard put a finger under Kaidan’s chin and tipped it up. “I saw David at Grissom Academy. He’s ok. Doing ok. Thanks to you.”

“You’re not responsible for David Archer,” Kaidan said. “You’ve got it in your head you’re responsible for saving everyone, including me.” He traced Shepard’s cheek bone. “You don’t need to save me. You never have.”

Shepard huffed. “I’ve made your life a living hell. Admit it. Name one thing we’ve ever done that hasn’t somehow gone FUBAR.”

“This,” Kaidan said softly, and kissed him again. Soft. Slow. Deep. Shepard sighed into his mouth and Kaidan stomach flipped.

“Stay with me tonight?” Shepard asked when they parted. Kaidan nodded. Four years of waiting, and all he could do was nod. It was enough.

With the galaxy falling down around them there was no telling know how much time they’d wasted and how much they had left. In the end he supposed it didn’t matter. With Shepard there was never a plan. It would be whatever it was. The rest was up to them.

Shepard took his hand and guided him towards the bed.   

They’d figure it out along the way.

 


End file.
